Desde Agua Desbocada, ternura
by kaut
Summary: Some things aren't meant to last, others are meant to last forever. GSR.


**Desde Agua Desbocada, ternura**

**Disclaimer: **In those delicious dreams of mine, I own it all, but when I wake, I am reminded that it's not mine, and I'll never be able to claim that it is, so, please allow me to live in those dreams and let me borrow.

**Spoilers: **Anything up to _One to Go_.

**A/N: **The title was inspired by, but not directly taken from, Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnet IV.

Thank you.

***

_The waves crash mercilessly against the jagged rocks protruding out of the water. As they strike, they send up a spray that rises well above the water. The wind propels the spray yards before the drops of moisture fall gently back into the water. It is both violent and beautiful, the collision between water and land._

_Over time, the collision has left its mark on the land. The water crashing upon the land has shaped it, creating visibly beautiful scars that make up the landscape of the shore. It occurs often, the violent barrage of water upon land, and each time it occurs, the land forever changes. Over time, those changes become visible, measurable. Beyond that, the ocean, however, looks as though it is unaffected by the collision. There are no visible scars. The waters look untouched. But, the waters run deep and the very profound effects land and land-dwellers have on the ocean are well known. It has been land impacting the sea from the very beginning, for, it was land that thrust itself up from the ocean floor and impaled the waters. It is water's ability to move and change and open up to the land around it, and it is the ocean's immense depths that hide all that goes on beneath. The ocean draws you in and holds you in a trance. It is the ultimate unknown. The endless deep blue of it mesmerizes, and gazing upon it is like gazing into eternity. There is no end. It is dark and it is deep, and its depths hide many secrets._

_***_

The bank was steep; pebbles of rocks gave way under her feet and tumbled to the beach and the sea below, and she was drained, the emotional fatigue leading to near complete physical, but Sara forced herself to keep going. It was hot, her mind was swirling, and the climb up the embankment was leaving her lightheaded and dizzy. Every thought that passed through pushed her harder, until finally, she reached the top. Pulling herself up onto the rocky cliff, she collapsed, and for a few moments only, just allowed herself to breathe.

For minutes, the world spun around her. She closed her eyes, still feeling the spinning, and eventually it calmed. Opening her eyes again, she pulled herself to a seated position and perched herself along the edge of the rock face, facing the sea. Her breathing slowed and she found herself staring into the beyond, missing him.

Gazing out into the ocean, the endlessness of it, watching it stretch far into eternity, it wasn't hard to imagine how so many people before her drew their inspiration from it. Poets finding mystery, adventure and romance in it and those words finding there way to her through the poems that he'd read to her. Somehow the sea represented everyone. Like her, it could be temperamental, angry, unforgiving, driven, secretive… It could unleash so much power and fury. It could push forward with great intensity and it could retreat. It had its moments of calm, of peace, but beneath all that, there was always something ready to rise up.

It was beautiful, the coastline of the Osa Peninsula. She'd fallen in love with it the moment she'd reached Costa Rica. It hadn't been until she shared it with him that it left her completely breathless. He was the ocean too, hidden, deep, mysterious, calm, inspiring…beautiful. Seeing him stand on the very beach down below, with the sea as his backdrop, smiling and eyes aglow, her body lost its ability to take in oxygen. It was a moment, like so many other moments they'd shared together since he arrived to find her in the rain forest, that stole her breath and left her knees weak.

She'd been witness to some of the greatest miracles on earth. It had been totally…total, the vast forms of life surrounding her, the stunning beauty of the trees and the vines, the exotic mammals, birds and insects, and watching his face upon each discovery, sharing that excitement with him. He was so utterly breathtaking in that niche. He treated life with such tenderness. He was the most stunningly beautiful man she'd ever known, from his mind to his heart, to the way he treated even the smallest life forms with the greatest reverence. If she hadn't already been completely, overwhelmingly in love with him, then seeing him in the rain forest and on that beach would have put her there.

Gazing at the ocean led to more thoughts of him, moments they'd spent together, the quiet existence of two hearts beating together. Their lives together in the Costa Rican rainforest had been wonderful. It was a dream come true, he with she, studying a multitude of life forms and discovering together how incredible it could be to live and breathe for each other and for a host of different lives dependent on their research. They were working for the planet and for those undervalued and endangered species at risk of dying even in the most untouched of places. She'd been discovering a lot about life and love and the absolute feeling of completion and happiness in the process. She'd reached a new plateau, a level of comfort and understanding and peace she hadn't known could exist. He'd come in so quickly, like the tides of the Osa Peninsula, fast and unexpected, leaving a life he'd had forever to come to her in Costa Rica. And, just as the tides recede and return to the ocean, so does he.

He'd been gone an hour perhaps and already she missed him. It was knowing that when she returned to the small apartment they shared, he wouldn't be there. She'd go to sleep at night, and his side of the bed would be empty. She wouldn't have his arms to hold her and keep her warm, the sound of his soft, even breaths wouldn't be there to lull her to sleep. When she woke up, she wouldn't be greeted with a smile, or pulled into his chest. It was only a few days, not like the months on end they'd been separated after she first left Vegas and before he'd come to Costa Rica, but she felt his absence every time. Once a month he left her, for only a few days at a time, and she would remember why it was so difficult to be without him. She'd become so entwined with him, she often felt she couldn't separate their two beings and she wondered if he felt the same way, felt he needed to uncoil himself from her. He'd given up his life for her, joined her in a life she'd chosen and it wasn't hard to imagine he needed time alone, apart, to remember his individuality, or to do those things he'd built a life on doing, but that she couldn't do with him any longer.

A small, wistful smile crept up onto her face. The absences were hard, but the time they shared together was wonderful. The past month had been beautiful. A month ago he'd decided to forgo his monthly trip stateside and stay with her. They'd treated those days like a bonus, a time for two lovers to reconnect and get lost in each other once again. When, a few days ago, he told her he'd be leaving again, it was hard, and it was hard not to think of that past month as something else, as a goodbye. Although she knew, _knew,_ that it wasn't goodbye, that they could never say goodbye, that he'd never let her go, those days together, those days that had felt like a bonus, left a part of her feeling like he was saying goodbye, slowly and tenderly, creating memories for both of them to hold onto. They couldn't live each other's lives, and he didn't know how to tell her. It felt like he had been peeling away a band aid, slowly, prolonging the pain without knowing it. She knew it was the only way he knew how to move, he deliberated on everything, but it was torture. When he told her he was leaving again, she lost the ability to think and to reason, and she cried. That morning, however, she took his departure calmly, knowing he'd be back soon, knowing he hadn't been saying goodbye, knowing that their love was absolute and surpassed everything. It was hard watching him leave again, but it was only for a few days, so, she had allowed him to kiss her goodbye and nodded to the soft words that were spoken but not heard. She had watched his cab disappear around the bend, and then, she had wandered, through town of Carate, along the beach, up the coastline and onto the rock face she now found herself on.

There had been so many changes lately. Their field research in the Costa Rican rain forest was over. They were living in an apartment in Carate, still working with the other members of their research team, analyzing data, hiking back into the rain forest to double check on certain findings, and closing out their time in Costa Rica. They had the chance to stay on in Costa Rica, but when the offer came, Gil had asked her to decline. She did without questioning the reasons, knowing he, in his own time and in his own way, would tell her why. Small parts of her, parts that she'd built up for protection, wanted to doubt his absences, or rather doubt that he'd return from them, knowing it was possible that he may want to return to his old life, the life he'd built up for himself and dedicated himself to forever. She fought back those doubts, knowing that his ideas for the future included her. Even though they hadn't talked about it, it was a given. He'd given up so much for her. He'd given up Vegas and the lab. Hell, he'd even given up his beloved pet. Hank had been his dog for years, and Gil had to give him away when he came to Costa Rica, but he did it without looking back on the decision, and when she tried to talk to him about it, he'd told her, with an air of sadness but not of regret, that Hank would be with a family, with a little boy that would drag him everywhere and give him the attention he needed.

It wasn't Gil's three day absences that had led her away from their home and onto the cliff. It might have been that they hadn't really talked about his departures other than to acknowledge that there were things back in the states that he needed to do, and that he'd be back. They'd always suffered from an inability to communicate clearly without speaking in riddles and hidden meanings and metaphors, the major stumbling block in their relationship. So many times they'd talked around an issue or a situation, or avoided it altogether. Often it left them hurting, but when it came to clearly talking something out, neither of them could do it. They were so vulnerable around each other and she supposed this time was no different.

Their lives always seemed to run in diametric opposition, and how they'd ever run together had been a miracle. He liked his life static, predictable, even when the world around him was raging and moving with torrent, he opted for stillness. And she, she liked her life moving, always moving, afraid that if she slowed down and didn't stop moving, all those things she'd been running from, would catch up to her. Gil had been the only one able to stop her rapid movements. He'd slowed her hurried pace and shown her just how rewarding moving slowly could be. He'd found a way to still her, and she found that she liked the pace the two of them had created together. With him, she didn't need to run any longer. It had given her peace. But, those periods of peace had only been temporary. It was a cycle. The first time he'd stilled her, she thought it would last. It didn't, and given the circumstances of those last few months she'd spent in Vegas, it couldn't. Then, after over a year of running, she let him go, only to have him find her months later and still her again. It had been everything. She had actually believed they might finally be navigating towards a happy ending. The peace had been lasting.

His returns were becoming as hard as his departures. The first time he returned, she'd been asleep, waking to find him staring at her with a familiar look of love and of want. It left her in awe every time, feeling so desired by him. It was that look that years before kept her holding on and holding out, knowing that the love she had for him was so absolute and not so unrequited as it often felt. On his days away from her, he missed her too. Lately though, he'd been more absent in his returns. He began looking past her instead of at her, and she knew his thoughts were back in the place he'd just come from. What was it that was enticing him away from her? It seemed, even in their most intimate moments, he was looking beyond her, always beyond her. He'd still hold her in his arms; she'd still feel the warmth of his chest against her, the security of his embrace, but his eyes and mind were in a place out of her grasp. And she was always reaching, stretching, extending, trying to arrive at the same place he was at, but it seemed the space between them had become to vast to cross. He'd hold her, but unlike before, when she felt whole within his arms, she now sensed his mind wandering, and those moments, that were once so precious to her, became laced with a sense of sadness. It changed her. She found herself avoiding his eyes, not wanting to confirm that he was longing for something else other that to just be and exist with her. He told her he loved her and she still couldn't look at him. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him while making love anymore, afraid to see his eyes looking towards a far off place. _I'm looking through you, where did you go? I thought I knew you, what did I know?_

Stop it, she told her self as the lyrics to the Beatles song ran through her head. _I'm looking through you, where did you go? I thought I knew you, what did I know? You don't look different, but you have changed. I'm looking through you, you're not the same. Your lips are moving, I cannot hear. Your voice is soothing, but the words aren't clear. _"Stop it!" she screamed, this time out, her voice catching in the wind. God, he'd only been gone an hour perhaps, and she already felt herself losing it. She wanted to run.

Her earlier fatigue was gone. The feeling of needing to run, away and anywhere, was growing inside her. The sight of leatherbacks building their nests on the beach stopped her from even standing. The first time she'd seen them, she'd been in the Galapagos. The giant turtles had held her in a spell, just as everything on those islands had. They'd all moved her thoughts back to Darwin and his research, and how following in that path had changed her and made her look to the future in a way she hadn't allowed herself to before. And, the turtles were mystifying animals. Every time she saw those giant creatures, she found herself stopping in her tracks. She'd wondered what they'd seen in their lifetime. In just a short time, they'd watched the ocean change, their habitats and lives disrupted and destroyed by man's imprint. Yet, a part of her envied them, envied how they could dive deep into the sea and discover its secrets.

She could dive and discover so much, just like she'd been able to dive into him, but there was always something hidden. There would always be a crevice she couldn't reach. She wondered at how she could fall in love with someone as deep and mysterious as the ocean. He'd opened himself up, allowed her in, allowed her to discover his secrets, but his recent looks beyond her and the parts of himself that didn't return to Costa Rica with him showed that there was still a part of him she hadn't breached. He engulfed her, but there would always be something buried within him.

The waves below began to pick up and she saw the tide coming in. There was a flurry of activity amongst the turtles before they scurried along the beach and dove back into the ocean. The waves were coming in harder, breaking against the rocks surrounding the beach. Violent in their assault, they came in fast, shattering on the rock. The rocks remained unmoved, seemingly unaffected despite the fierce beating of water. Gil was so much like the rock. Just as he was the ocean, deep and mysterious, he was the rock, possessing the ability to remain still despite the torrent around him. If he was the rock, then she was the waves, aggressive and destructive, crashing upon the rock, trying to break it to her will and shattering upon it instead, always having to find a way to regroup.

She had to tell herself that she wasn't pounding on him relentlessly, she'd merely given him choices and he'd chosen to be with her, but she knew it wasn't true. Even when he couldn't see it, she'd been beating herself mercilessly upon him for years, chiseling away at him. And, the harder she came in, the more she would break, parts of her flying everywhere. She was either breaking to him or breaking way. He was too still for her to beat against. And, she didn't want to break against him anymore. She didn't want to carve pieces out of him that had taken so long to form. She wanted to be still with him. It had only been when she'd calmed, and rolled in that they'd been able to exist together. She'd gained strength from their stillness. They'd become like two drops of water, merging and forming a large drop, a drop greater in strength. They could still be separate, individuals, but they'd never equal the strength they created together.

She didn't know how her thoughts had turned so gloomy. The morning had been dreadful, had felt like a goodbye, but it wasn't. He'd call, at least three times a day while he was gone, sometimes more. Some calls would last only minutes, with him calling and telling her he only wanted to hear her voice and she'd smile as she was feeling exactly the same thing. She'd miss him for those days he was gone, long for him to return, and he would always return. He was just as entwined with her as she was with him. She trusted in them. She'd let him do what he needed to do on his own, and when the time was right, he'd ask her to follow and she would. For now, she could only wait and remember, think of his touch and miss him. Getting up and brushing the earth from her pants, she headed back towards the town, decided that the most intimate of those memories would be so much more vivid back in their bed where she could take a nap and dream of him.

_***_

It is a place, a vision he thought only existed in his imagination. It is a place where he's living the life he'd only once allowed himself to envision. In the stillness and in the beauty of that place, he's at peace; he's complete. It is a dream. It is a home.

Once before, he'd come oh so near to living out that dream. In the few months between his return from the east and her escape to the west, he was so impossibly near that dream that it tore him to shreds when the dream shattered just before it was realized, leaving him only with an emptiness he'd never known before. Three and a half agonizingly long years later, he once again found himself on the brink of realizing that same dream.

He was close. He was in a place where, surrounded by the things he loved and doing the work he loved, he was sharing that life with the only person he'd ever fallen in love with. Even after fifteen years, he was still falling in love with her.

Their life together, in the rainforest, was a thing of beauty. So amazing, he could almost classify it as living art. Surrounded by the miracles of nature and of the rainforest, he was fortunate enough to research those miracles and rediscover, daily, how overwhelming and how miraculous they were, even for a man of science who'd known how they came to exist. All those persons who had ever told him that the science diminished the beauty or the mystery in a living being had been so very sadly mistaken. Science had enhanced their beauty. He saw the mystery and the miracles in those beings everyday, for the miracles aren't in how things came to be, or the processes that created them, but in their very existence, in her very existence.

Yet, despite the miracles and the mystery and despite sharing those mysteries and miracles with Sara, the dream wasn't complete. In the dream, the life they shared together belonged solely to them. The life they had been living, while amazing and artistic, was shared, seven days a week with numerous others, and the hours they'd spent alone together, were precious few. Recently, they'd been given more time together, with their field research completed and the move over to their tiny apartment in Carate, but it still wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted to give her more. He wanted to give her a home.

His entire life, he hadn't been good at sharing his personal thoughts, or wishes, or dreams with anyone. He'd shared a lot of himself with her, but letting anybody, even her, especially her, in on a dream so grand, left him feeling more than a little vulnerable, even if he knew with almost complete certainty that she shared the same dream. In the end, he didn't tell her about it. He didn't know how, and a part of him wanted to turn that dream into reality before he let her in on it. A part of him thought he could surprise her, and that left him feeling a little giddy, especially after his last surprise had turned out so well. So, instead of telling her, he began to catalogue everything he'd ever heard her say about where she wanted to live and the kind of abode she wanted to live in. When he found a listing for a property near Trinidad, in Northern California and he flew out to see the property, he stopped searching. It wasn't the rainforest, and the biodiversity wouldn't be nearly as immense. They wouldn't be surrounded by the miracles and beauty that had filled their lives in Costa Rica, but every place had its own mysteries.

The property was on the ocean, stretching along a beach, and sheltered by rock cliffs and tall redwoods. Large and small rocks littered the shoreline. It had been a summer property, owned by a family from Boise, Idaho. For years, they'd spent their summer months, camping in their RV on the property. Plans to build a small cabin had been put back, until the recession hit and the family could no longer afford the property, let alone build on it. Grissom knew he'd have to build, but the sheltered location was a nearly impossible find and it gave him the chance to build Sara her house of dreams. He made an offer, conservative, but not cheap, that, because of the recession, was quickly accepted. Apparently the offer was more than the family or the realtor expected to get, and Grissom couldn't believe the bargain he'd gotten.

The purchase of the property led to another decision. Did he tell Sara? In order to build, he'd have to draw up plans, get a building permit, search out contractors, and he'd have to be there for the completion of each stage of development to make decisions, make sure everything was going according to plan, and change certain things if he had to. It would require a lot of travel, between Costa Rica and California, and keeping the whole thing a surprise would not be an easy task. He could end the surprise with the buying of the property and they could build their home together, which when he thought about it, made more sense and he was, if anything, a sensible man. Yet, he was reluctant. He new that Sara would look at the property and see the same vision he had, and that sharing that vision would be incredible, but a large part of him, a part of him that he couldn't ignore, wanted her to see the completed vision. Sara, inadvertently, had turned him into a romantic, and he wanted to see her tears of surprise when she saw what he'd built for her. He returned to Carate and didn't tell her he'd purchased a property.

There is always a price that accompanies the pursuit of one's dreams. The decision to keep his decision from Sara, though only momentarily, came with a cost and he saw that cost every time he looked at her face and saw the myriad of emotions on it. There was love, always love, but the love in her eyes mixed with fear and resignation, tenderness, sadness and a host of others. When he'd returned from his first trip north, the trip to view the property he'd buy, he found Sara asleep in the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, watching her asleep on their bed, and he wondered how her beauty could still haunt him. He continued to stare until he saw her eyelids flutter open and her eyes find him. In that moment, he was witness to a something so tender and intimate and beautiful, it stole the breath from his body. Her eyes had lit when they found his, and they held such wonder in them. Her smile had crept over her face and she'd shined. He couldn't wait to take her to their next home.

Thoughts of the future began to distract him. When not immersed in his research, he found himself beginning to daydream. He spent more and more time traveling back to the United States, and with great reluctance, he spent more and more time away from her. It took a while for him to see the affect his far off thoughts and his monthly trips had affected her, but he did notice. When he returned home from each successive trip, her eyes dimmed and her smile shortened. When they went to sleep at night, he found her curling into him in a way she'd never had before, getting as close as possible, pushing herself into his body and leaving no space between them. Even when he held her, he felt her pressing into him as though she couldn't be close enough, keep him close enough. And, as heartbreaking as it was, it didn't nearly match the intensity of the pain he felt when he first detected relief in her features, relief that he'd come back. He'd studied her carefully, watching her try to fight off her insecurities but often failing, and he realized, with stark clarity, that pieces of her were waiting for the day when he wouldn't return.

The pain in her features was almost too much to bear. He knew he had to do something to reassure her and let her know that she was his life, but he wasn't willing to give up his secret yet. He just needed to buy a little more time. He gazed at her with undisguised adoration, but she'd grown afraid to really look at him. He told her he loved her, wanted her. He whispered promises to her and when it still wasn't enough to remove the doubt from her eyes, he skipped a month.

"_When are you leaving?"_

"_I'm not. I'm staying."_

She'd looked so surprised and so thankful, and they'd spent those few days and the month that followed, in their Carate apartment, holding each other and making love. Her eyes had brightened. Her smile had widened. She'd looked at him again. He hadn't been able to imagine ever letting her go even one more time, but the house called and a month after he told her he was staying, he had to leave her once more.

He broke the news after dinner one night. Sara sat passively, her face expressionless, and he was more afraid of that than her anger. They did the dishes together, silently, and then, she disappeared. He watched her walk away, still not speaking, and not knowing what to say to her, he didn't go after her. Instead, he moved outside and gazed up at the night sky, trying to find words in the stars. Hours passed unknowingly, and he moved back inside the apartment. Sara was curled on the bed, facing the far wall. From the doorway, he could see her body shaking as she wept. He moved to the bed, laying down, on his back, beside her, and waited for her to curl into his body so that he could hold her. She didn't move. He turned on his side so that he was facing her, propping himself up on his elbow. He reached out to touch her, but stopped. His hand hovered over her shoulder, but he was afraid to let it fall the remaining distance, so he remained still, staring at her quivering form, his hand floating inches from her shoulder. He watched her inch away slightly and he let out a sigh, rolling onto his back. "Sara."

She didn't turn. She didn't answer. He tried again. "Sara." The silence that followed was only interrupted by short interludes of sobs. "Sara, honey, I have to go." Sara's body shook, almost violently, and he moved closer to her, still not touching. "Sara, honey, look at me, please."

Sara sniffled. Her back remained to him. "I get it."

"Sara."

"You don't need to explain things; just go."

"Sara, please." She turned towards him and he could see the redness of her cheeks and the tears resting in the corners of her eyes. "I want to stay here with you, but I have to go. There is something I need to do."

"I know." Her voice was so quiet he'd barely heard her.

"No, honey, you don't. You couldn't possibly."

"I don't? Really Grissom, I get it. I understand." She flipped onto her back, her voice rising. "What I don't understand is why you insist on torturing me this way. It's hard enough without hearing you try to rationalize it."

Her words stung and he struggled to say something. God, he was terrible at communicating himself to her. After years he still didn't know how to vocalize just what she meant to him. Hell, he hadn't even been able to find inspiration in the stars. He searched for the words but all that came out was, "We have a couple more days together before I leave and I'll be back a few days after that."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

"Not all of you. Every time you come back, less of you returns. You leave a part of you and whatever it is that's drawing you away, I'm fighting to compete with it, and I'm starting to see that I can't."

"Sara, no…" His mouth opened and closed and the words lodged in his throat. "Please, Sara, it's only a few days."

He watched her turn to him and press her lips to his. They lingered, lightly against his, slightly open, but not moving. It was a ghost of a kiss, but it was powerful and sad and he felt her saying goodbye. He pulled her to him, his hands on the small of her back, and his head fell onto her collar bone. "Don't say goodbye Sara. I just need a little more time. Give me a little more time."

He felt her nod against him and he pulled her in tighter, this time being the one who needed to be pressed into her. She let him squeeze her tighter and tighter until they both eventually nodded off and his hold loosened.

Only a few mornings later he packed a bag and gave her a brief kiss goodbye, afraid to let it linger, lest it deepen and he allowed her to convince him to stay. He hopped in the cab and his thoughts moved to the kiss nights before. It was too hard to keep the house a surprise any longer. Meetings and goodbyes were becoming increasingly heartbreaking and bound to become even more so. When he returned, he'd only glimpse more relief and more resignation in her, and without telling her about the property and the house, she'd never understand that the pieces of him not making the return to Costa Rica were the parts of him dreaming about their future. The dream wasn't complete, but he hadn't understood, until that kiss, just how painful it was on her not to be able to share in the dream. The airport was just ahead and he could see a plane landing in the distance. He'd be taking that same plane on its return trip to San Jose, but he realized he couldn't get on it without her. "Turn the car around. I need to go back."

The cab driver looked at him in question, and then spun the car around quickly. Grissom stared out the window on the return trip, anxious to get back to Sara. When the cab finally rolled to a stop in front of his and Sara's apartment complex, he thanked the driver, dropping far more money than was necessary, and strode back inside the apartment. It was quiet. Seeing no signs of Sara, he moved from room to room, searching. "Sara?"

His calls were only met with silence. Flopping down on the sofa, he ran his hand through his hair. Minutes later, an hour later perhaps, he couldn't be sure of the passage of time, he heard the soft click of the door and his head popped up. Sara stood in the doorway, frozen to her spot, staring at him. He could only stand and stare back. She closed the door and moved past him, raising an eyebrow when she passed. "Forget something?"

He shook his head and stepped in front of her, running his hands gently down her arms, passing lightly over the tips of her fingers. His hands moved to her hips and he pulled her towards him. Her head fell to his chest and he placed a tender kiss on her hairline. "Come with me."

Sara's face lifted to his. "What?"

"Come with me. I want you to see what I've been leaving behind."

"I can't," she spoke softly, shaking her head.

"I need you to, Sara. Please. It's important."

"Why haven't you asked before?"

"I wasn't ready before."

"And you are now?"

He took a moment to answer, but the answer, when it came out, was clear. "Yes."

Sara let out a sigh and gave him a soft smile. "You've only ever been able to do things in your own time, haven't you?"

He smiled lightly. "Will you come?"

"Yeah, I'll come."

***

The car ride up the California coastline was spent in silence. They'd put on so many miles the previous day. Carate to San Jose. San Jose to Los Angeles. Los Angeles to San Francisco. San Francisco to McKinleyville? Now, they were putting on more miles, driving up the California coast in a rental car. Gil was steering the car with one hand and holding onto her hand with the other. His thumb was absently running over the back of her hand, gliding over the skin there and she responded by stroking her thumb lightly on his palm and the underside of his curled fingers.

He'd held onto her the entire trip, her hand, the crook of her arm, around her shoulders when they'd watched the in-flight movie from San Jose to Los Angeles, around her waist during an evening stroll down the Hammond Trail in McKinleyville, around her body in the hotel. He'd spoken to her about everything, telling stories, reciting facts, allowing her to jump and expand on those facts, give her own ideas, or tell her own anecdotes. They'd shared freely, laughed quietly, loved absolutely. Despite the fatigue that came with the miles they'd traveled and the four flights they had to take at Gil's last minute rebooking for flights a day later, it was one of the best days of her life. She'd been with him, and he'd only let go of her to grab carry-ons or eat, or any other little things that required two hands. He'd been open and affectionate and he'd gazed at her with that tenderness that left her awestruck and wanting to melt right into him.

It turned out the morning drive wasn't very long. They'd just made their way through the tiny town of Trinidad when Gil turned into the trees, pulling onto a gravel road that Sara assumed led to the ocean. She turned to him, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to tell her just where it was they were going, but his eyes were in front of him. She squeezed his hand to get his attention, but he merely squeezed back before tugging their entwined fingers up to his mouth and kissing the back of her hand.

As they drove further down the narrow road, the trees thinned out and they came to a clearing where a house sat. Gil slowed to a stop. She sat in the seat beside him, staring at the house in front of her. It was a fair size, but not large, long and looking not quite rectangular, but bending up at the side, and it was beautiful. It looked as though it was carved right into the landscape, large rock structures sheltering the house on two sides, but far enough back to landscape the area around the house. The house looked newly built, but judging by the construction tools and materials laying around, there was still work to be done. The yard was filled with soil, but there wasn't any grass yet and she assumed that the owner or owners of the place would be landscaping just as soon as the house was finished.

Beside her, Gil opened his car door, the noise drawing her from her thoughts. Seconds later, he'd opened her door and extended his hand to help her out.

"Gil, what is this?"

"Come on, I'll show you." He took her hand and she allowed him to lead her to the house. "It looks like wood and rock on the outside, but it's actually a hybrid of materials designed to be more energy efficient and provide more insulation than wood. There are two fairly large solar panels on the roof, so the house will harness most of the energy it needs from the sun. Any additional energy required to heat or light the place will come from hydro and natural gas."

He stopped by the door, halting momentarily in his explanation and she could only gaze at him in wonder. He opened the door. "Leave your sandals on." She stepped in behind him, still holding his hand and following him through the entryway. "All the floors are hardwood, except the kitchen and the bathrooms, which will be tiled. They, the bathrooms, aren't…finished yet. There are two bedrooms, a small den, a small office, but it should be large enough for the both of us… None of the walls are painted yet. I thought maybe you'd want to choose the colors, but with all the windows, I was thinking light pastels that could be lit by sunlight. It would open the place up even more, but whatever you want…"

She was following him from room to room, getting a tour of the backside of the house, viewing a small, unfinished bathroom, and three empty rooms varying in size, but all fairly small, and she guessed them to be the so-called office, den and bedroom. She remained silent for the tour, having yet to find any words at all. It was all such a surprise. He led her into a large room she immediately saw was the kitchen. It was open and spacious. The floors were tiled. It housed a large refrigerator, a beautiful stove and oven, two sinks, and a dishwasher. There was plenty of counter space, and lots of cupboards. There was also a large overhead fan extending slightly down from the ceiling. "This is the kitchen. I thought we'd put an island here and maybe a table over there," he pointed to the far side of the room, away from the appliances, cupboards and counters. "All the appliances have high efficiency ratings. I went with silver paneling on them because it would go with whatever color we decided on in here. The sliding doors over there lead to the back patio. I thought we'd bring a hammock back from Costa Rica and put it up back there, away from where we'd be putting the patio furniture of course…"

Sara nodded, still too stunned to speak. He was talking about the place as if it were theirs. God, it would be a dream. The house, so far, was everything she'd ever wanted in a home, open yet cozy, environmentally friendly, secluded, near water, a part of the landscape rather than forcing itself onto the landscape. When he led her into the next room, she knew it was the perfect house.

The room was large, had a small fire place off to the side, wood paneling along two of the walls. A third wall had a built in bookshelf, covering the entire wall. The last side was curved, arcing out in the middle, and it was all window. Large windows extending the entire height and length of the room lit the room, bathing the room with the morning sunlight. Through the windows, she could see a veranda running the length of the house, and wrapping around the side. Sara moved to the window, pulling her hand from Gil's grasp, finding herself staring out and down into the ocean. She couldn't see the beach below, but she could see waves crashing upon the jagged rocks scattered throughout the water, and she realized the house was up on a bluff, far enough back to hide her view of the beach down below, and giving them plenty of room to landscape in front, giving them a beautiful view of the rocks, sea, sand and surf. She stood by the window and began to dream.

There was a warmth on her back. Gil was beside her now; hand on her back, his fingertips on her spine. She leaned back, closing her eyes. His breath was on her neck. "Come on, there's one more room I want to show you."

She allowed him to lead her back into the hall and through another door, into a large room. The room was square, unlike the previous room, but it had the same massive windows running the length and height of the outside wall. The panes of glass seemed even larger. The light streaming into the room gave it a beautiful glow. "The master bedroom," Gil whispered in her ear and she felt a tingling behind her neck.

To her, the room was perfect. She turned to him, staring at him and hoping, beyond anything, that it was all real, that the house was really theirs. "Griss?"

"I bought this place…this property. I know I should have told you; I'm sorry. I wanted to show you this dream I had, and I was hoping it would be complete before I showed you, but, well, it isn't finished…I've been coming here to look in on the progress being made. I had hoped it would be our first home as a married couple."

Her eyes widened further. "Gil," she whispered, staring at him, and seeing that same hopeful, tender, nervous expression that had been on his face the first time he'd mentioned marriage to her. They hadn't spoken about getting married since before she left Vegas, using their time together in Costa Rica to heal the hurt and the pain they'd caused each other over the year and a half previously. They'd gone slowly, migrating back towards each other and rediscovering all that they'd loved about one another, so his statement wasn't any less surprising than when he'd first posed the idea of marriage. She tilted her head, forcing herself to speak. "You bought this place? You want to live here?"

"Only if that is what you want. If not, we can sell it, pretend I bought the property just to flip it, and we can go wherever you like. I wanted to build you a house of dreams, Sara, but if this isn't what you want or if it isn't where you want to be, we'll do it elsewhere. I'll follow you anywhere. I only know that when I saw this place, I saw our future. All those times, when you said I was looking beyond you, leaving parts of me behind, those parts that I was leaving behind, leaving here, those were the parts dreaming of our future together."

She nodded, catching his eye and then glancing around the room again, finding her gaze wandering back to those massive windows that give the room a full view of the ocean.

"What do you think?"

She turned to him, giving him a soft smile. "Can we put a massive bed right in the middle of this room, so we can rest on it and look out into the ocean?"

"And lay entwined under the moonlight by night? If you'd like."

"I think I'd like that. What about work?"

His hands ran up and down her arms. "Humboldt State University isn't a far commute. I'm more than sure I can persuade somebody to give me a class or two. It would be an opportunity for them to expand their biological sciences department. And, there's the Marine Lab at the University as well. I know how involved you've become maritime ecosystems, oceans and ocean life since your time on the Sea Sheppard, and I'm sure they'd welcome your experience."

"If the recession hasn't caused them to make cutbacks."

He looked at her strangely, as though she was talking nonsense and she smirked. He smirked back. "I think the Obama administration has been putting money into education and environmental studies rather than cutting it back, despite the recession."

She smiled, knowing he was probably right, and feeling a little saddened to have missed out on the history that was made when Obama took office. She'd been a fan of his, had voted for him in the absentee ballots, but had been completely isolated from society when the election results came in. And, she'd been behind on American affairs ever since, but she had trust in the man who held office. Obama was insightful and progressive, and she believed that the positions they were qualified for would be there for them if they chose to seek them out. Gil, she knew, could get a position anywhere. Whether or not she could remained to be seen.

"Besides, there are also independent studies we could do. This area isn't without insects, and I could always use your talents in helping me study them."

Sara laughed. "You study bugs, Gil; I'll study marine life, and we can spend the rest of our time here, staring out at the ocean."

"We can travel too. Go back to Costa Rica if you want, or to South America, Europe, Asia. Financially, we're in a good position. Everything is open to us."

"And if I'd like to stay here for awhile?"

He smiled at her, taking her hands in his and playing with her fingers, staring down at them. "Then we'll stay here. We'll walk hand in hand down the streets of Trinidad, and I'll start to show my age, while you'll always be beautiful, and people will look at us and wonder why such a beautiful creature is with such a laughable old man."

She could feel her smile grow. "You'll be handsome and distinguished, and my features will go quickly, and they'll wonder what a distinguished man is doing with a prematurely old lady when he could have nearly any woman he wanted."

"No, you'll age gracefully, like Lauren Bacall or Joanne Woodward, and even that won't begin for years."

"Alright, then they'll watch two people grow old together and transform into that distinguished gentleman and that graceful lady, and they'll wonder at those two strange individuals who've sheltered themselves away in their house overlooking the sea."

"And they'll never guess at all that those two people went through to be together and to gain that quiet existence."

She turned back to the window, staring out at the restless water and watching waves breaking upon rock. "Unless the research us; then they'll know full well what we went through."

She felt him release her hands and move around behind her, wrapping his arms around her. "Ah, but then they'll tell the stories and those stories be passed down generations until they become legends; fabled tales giving testament to the power and the strength of love."

"Of souls and of mates?"

"Of beauty and of dreams."

She leaned back, head on his shoulder, placing her hands over his. "It's a beautiful thought, as far fetched as it is."

"Well, we've wanted only to live our lives as our own, so I'm not all that saddened by the idea that our story will rest with us. It won't diminish the truth or the beauty of it."

She turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around him. "I can't wait for that next chapter."

"Soon." She watched him step back and nod towards a door on the far side of the room. "Our bathroom. The floor is set to be tiled this week. I thought we'd put in a large bathtub, one that you could really sink into, place it by the window, and build a podium to place the tub into. It'll be next to the window ledge, so you can still gaze out at the ocean, even when bathing. We could add some plants to the ledge, or even turn the ledge into a planter. I was thinking of a shower in the corner…"

"Butterfly specimens on the walls?"

"A few, perhaps. Maybe a couple of the specimens I collected in Costa Rica… The bathroom is large, so it will be very open. The contractor spoke of people placing bamboo slats between rows of marble tile, and he's going to bring pictures, so that could be an option. He did say it was a striking look. He'll be bringing the pictures and the plans tomorrow, so you can look them over and make changes."

"Everything you've described sounds wonderful."

"I've tried to bring together everything I've heard you say you wanted in a home, everything I remember you commenting on loving in homes we've been in."

"You remember every comment I've made over the years? Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Because if I'd have said it, you would have remembered it. You said it, so it was important. Besides, I have a really good memory."

She smiled, shaking her head. "Alright Gilbert, I'm over the top impressed. Will you show me outside?" She looked back towards the window. "How do we get out onto that veranda anyways? This whole side of the house is all window. I don't remember seeing a sliding door in the other room."

She frowned when he grinned at her. "I thought I trained you to be observant, Sara."

Sara raised an eyebrow as he continued to grin, walking over to the far wall. Her eyes followed his movements, and she spotted a small latch along the wall. He unclasped it and pushed on the glass. The pane of glass turned clockwise. He smirked. She frowned again. "I would have found it."

"I know."

"Then don't look so smug. The glass is nearly seamless. Besides, the panes of glass end in evenly spaced intervals. That pane you just opened doesn't look any different than the others. Whoever put these windows in did a remarkable job."

"He is a professional, but he certainly seems to have an incredible eye for detail. Are you coming?"

She passed in front of him, stepping out onto the veranda. Leaning against the rail, she took in her surroundings. Off to the side, past the bedroom windows, to in front of what Gil had described as the master bath, on the far end of the veranda, there was a swing. It was wooden, had room to seat only two people, and was turned diagonally so that back corner of one side just touched the wall of the house, while the back corner of the other side just touched the rail of the veranda. Sara laughed. "The house isn't finished, or furnished, the bathrooms aren't started, walls aren't painted and the outside lawn isn't landscaped, yet there is a wooden swing sitting on the veranda?"

"I made it in my spare time. Some of the workers allowed me to borrow their tools."

She moved to the swing, running her hand over the varnished wood. "You made this?"

"I've been known to work quite well with my hands. I've made things before."

"Oh I know it, but everything you've built was for science or for forensics. I guess I'm surprised you crafted something just to fill your time."

"I didn't craft it to fill my time. I crafted it for you. It was going to be a housewarming gift."

"You were going to give me a housewarming gift?" She tried not to get emotional, but she was so pleasantly surprised. She stared at him for awhile, watching him nod, and then she smiled. "And I didn't get you anything."

"You've given me everything. Try it out."

"Alright." Sara sat on the swing, letting it rock her back and forth. Her toes pushed the sandals off her feet, and she turned, drawing her legs up and resting her back along the arm. Gil sat down beside her and she tucked her toes under his thighs as he rocked them. She was silent, staring at him and allowing everything he'd done for her sink in. She threw her head back. "You built me a house."

"No," he smiled, "I let the professionals build you a house. I built you a swing."

She leaned forward, clasping the hand resting on her knee. "You built me a home." She smiled at him, tender and earnest, then released his hand, leaning back again. She grew silent, happy just to sit and be with this amazing man she loved so, so much. His hand, the one that had been on her knee, moved to under the hem of her jeans after she'd unclasped it. Now, the thumb of that hand was lightly grazing over her tattoo on the top of her ankle. She closed her eyes as his hand moved up, gently squeezing her muscle and lightly running over her calf, stoking it without thought. His thumb brushed along the sensitive skin behind her knee, causing her to flinch and to shiver with desire simultaneously. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, but he was staring forward, unconscious of how his touch was affecting her. His hands ran back down, gliding over her skin. His fingertips tapped lightly on her calf muscle as they traveled downward. His palm followed smoothly, finding her ankle once again. His movements were light and gentle, the way he always touched her, as though she was something delicate, and to him, she knew she was. His touched contained his desire and it contained his promise, and it was something he did without thinking about it. She gazed at him, wanting to find a way to convey all that he'd managed to convey to her over the course of one morning, wanting to express what it had all meant to her. Pulling her foot from his grasp, she nudged him, gaining his attention. "Have you ever read _Anne of Green Gables_?"

"Yes, it was one of my mother's favorites."

She smiled, closing her eyes. "My very first foster mom gave it to me to read. I don't know what she was thinking; maybe she was trying to tell me that, despite what had happened, I could still live a happy, normal life, but I was only nine and I took it to believe that I could be adopted and brought to live in a place like Green Gables. I'd been told I wouldn't be living with my mother anymore, that I'd be living with somebody else, and I thought my life would turn out like Anne's, and maybe not living with my mother wouldn't be so bad. I even thought my foster mother was telling me that she and her husband would be adopting me, but they didn't really have room for me and had only taken me in until I could be placed, and instead of being Sara of whatever, I became Sara, ward of the State of California. Soon afterwards, I was moved homes, was taken to visit my mother in a psychiatric hospital, then prison, and I was starting to lose hope. By the time my mother went to trial, nearly a year later, I'd been in two more homes, had seen kids come and go through each of them, and I was beginning to understand that it had all been some unattainable dream. I knew then that I'd keep on getting shuffled around, and I did. I still loved that book though. I loved all of them. Maybe it was her spirit, or her ability to imagine anything."

"She was a very spirited character."

"Hmm."

"And she loved, and was loved by a man named Gilbert."

She opened her eyes, smiling warmly at him. "She was." Sara sat up straight, looking at Gil. "You say it was one of your mother's favorite books?" He nodded. She smirked. "Maybe that's why she named you Gilbert."

He grabbed her foot, tickling the bottom of it, causing her to jerk and let out a squeal, sliding down as she flailed. She was breathing heavy and staring up at him, watching him glance between her and the foot he held. "Don't, Gil. Please don't." His hand moved on her foot and for a moment she thought he was going to start tickling again. Then his palm ran over the top of her foot and gave her ankle another gentle caress before lightly running his hand up her shin. She was staring up at him, watching him gaze down at her with that look that always made her eyes falter. Her breaths were still short, but slowly evening out, nearly stopping when she felt his other hand on the exposed skin of her midriff. Eyes locked onto his, she reached up, splaying her hand across his chest, the zipper of his jacket beneath her fingertips. Her head came up off the seat. Gil moved over her, adjusting his position and beginning to lower his face to hers. Then, the chains on the swing creaked. Sara's head fell back onto the seat. She could feel Gil moving off of her. Sighing, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and cuddled into his side, lacing her arm through his. "Well, the swing is holding up."

"Yeah."

Sara smiled at him. "So, to be continued?"

"That is probably wise." His voice was low, quiet.

Sara felt a chill from the wind run through her. Gil's body was warm, so she curled further into him, tightening her jacket around her at the same time. Gil's arm held her in close and she closed her eyes, letting him rock her on her swing. She still hadn't been able to convey what this day, this home, meant to her, so she tried again, returning their conversation to _Anne of Green Gables. _"You know one of the things I loved about that book? I used to love how Anne Shirley gave everything a name, everything that was precious to her, she named. _White Way of Delight, The Snow Queen, Lake of Shining Waters…_"

"_Lover's Lane._"

She smiled softly. "_Green Gables,_ though that one wasn't hers. I decided that if I ever owned a place, a home, I'd name it. Now I don't know it that idea was romantic or childish…"

"Not childish. Maxim De Winter's home in Daphne du Maurier's, _Rebecca_, was called Manderley and Charles Foster Kane's house in _Citizen Kane_, was named Xanadu."

"Yeah, but they're estates. Somehow it seems more legitimate to name an estate."

"This is your chance to be Sara of Whatever. This is our place, the place where those two people are going to live and grow old together, be wondered about. It only seems right that those people live in a place with a name. We should name it."

"Gil and Sara of? You're right, it's our home, and already it feels so alive. What should we call it?"

"We'll have to think about it. We have time; we can decide later. Right now, I think we should head into town and pick up some food. We can bring it back here. We'll have to stay the night at the hotel again, and tomorrow is Monday, so the workers will be here and I thought maybe we'd take a drive up to the Forest of the Redwoods after we meet with the contractor, but we can spend all afternoon and all evening here if you'd like."

"I'd like."

He stood up, pulling her up with him. Before he could turn and head inside, she pulled him to her, kissing him. Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind, and she had to brush it away from her face, but she was smiling brightly. "Thank you." Gil brushed the hair from her face, kissing her again. When he turned to head inside, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him tight. She rested her head on his shoulder, looking out at the sea where the water was breaking hard against the rocks. _Agua desbocada__, _raging water, that's what the locals said of the water when she'd asked about diving near the beach in Carate. Two days ago she found herself believing her life would always be like that water, moving in fast and reckless, breaking and running away. The violent colliding of forces made up her past; they were a part of who she was, but now, with the promise of a life with Gil, _desde agua desbocada, ternura._

Gil started to move, and she followed, still wrapped around him, matching his exaggeratedly wide waddle with one of her own, finding the only movement necessary was the harmonizing strides they were taking together. He'd stilled her, despite the ridiculously wide and embellished steps they were taking, and later, the quick and somewhat playful run out to the car, she felt still. He'd given her a home.

***

_He's standing, barefoot on the shoreline, gazing out into the ocean. It seems so endless, and the sight, along with the sight of her, so wondrous and mysterious. He watches as she plays in the surf, diving into and out of the water, clinging to rocks. The waves are rolling in, and when they reach the rocks jutting out from the sea, they collide. The spray splashes her and she is laughing. She turns and looks over her shoulder at him, giving him a dazzling smile, and he can only stare. She dives back into the water, swimming towards him until it becomes too shallow and he's sure there isn't room for her body to swim any longer. She rises from the water, strolling towards him and his hear skips a beat. She is absolutely enchanting. _

_When she is directly in front of him, she takes his hand, tugging it, but only a little. "Join me in the water?"_

"_No thanks. I'm happy watching." He smiles tenderly and she returns the same smile._

"_Okay." And then, she's up on her tip-toes and kissing his cheek. He pulls his hand from hers. His hands come to rest on her back, just behind her hips, and his thumbs stroke the wet skin along her sides. Her arms come up and wrap around his neck, and she's pressed against him, smiling. Her bikini top has created two wet marks on the front of his shirt, but he only pulls her in closer, staring at her glowing face and smiling. Then, she's turned him and is walking him backwards into the water. Her arms are still wrapped around his neck, their bodies still pressed together, and she's moving slowly. He allows her to edge him backward, feeling the water hit his calves, then, the backs of his knees. His gaze hasn't yet wandered from her face, nor hers from his. Slowly they move deeper into the water, eyes locked the entire time. His shorts are wet, and then, the bottom of his shirt, and he notices that she's backed him in just past their waists. It happened so slowly, and without realizing it, he found himself completely at her mercy._

_He plants his feet, not allowing her to back him in any further. She smirks slightly, but doesn't push. They stand, in place, waist deep in the water, arms still holding each other, and he wonders, briefly, how long it will take her arms to tire of being raised above her shoulders. The surf splashes up his back and it's cold, but her body, pressed against his, is warm. He's still staring at her, at her shining eyes and the mysterious smile she's wearing, and he wonders if there will ever come a time when he's not completely captivated by her. He doubts it. He's in way too deep to ever find a way out, and he doesn't want to. There is a sense of peace that comes with being lost in her depths. She's breathtaking._

_His eyes roam over her face and when they reach the top of her head, he looks past her, at their home nestled within the rocks. His gaze moves back to Sara and he pulls her in a little closer, glancing between her and the house. She has never looked happier. Radiant can't even begin to describe her. Despite all the incredible places he's been and the amazing things he's done in his lifetime, he knows that his life has never been closer to perfection._

_His hands graze slowly and very lightly downwards until he's cupping her beneath her buttocks. He gently lifts and she wraps her legs around him. She is light in the water, almost weightless. His hands glide back upward, retracing their path down, and they lock together behind her back. She leans back slightly, unlocking her own hands and placing them on his shoulders. She's looking at him with tenderness and with love and all he can do is look back, holding her eyes with his. She leans forward again, pressing her chest tight against his. Her arms have wrapped themselves back behind his neck again. One of her thumbs is lightly stroking the place where his hair meets his neck, while the other holds her opposite wrist. He tightens his hold, squeezing her to him with his forearms. Their foreheads are resting against the other's and their breaths are mingling. They stand there, she wrapped around him, and time becomes suspended._

_A cool breeze picks up, chilling them. He feels her wet form shiver against him. Slowly he begins walking her back in, carrying her. She moves to step down, but his hands find the backs of her legs and he hoists her back up, running one hand along her leg to rewrap it around him. His hands glide back until, once again, they rest on the small of her back. Her head nestles itself in the hollow of his neck. He's still moving towards shore, but taking his time. As the water shallows, he begins to feel the weight of her. While she'll never be anything but light, for a man of his years, even holding up her weight, especially while wet, is not easy. He tires quickly, and his steps slow even more, but he stubbornly refuses to set her down. They near the shore and he stops, holding her to him. He knows his hips can't support her weight for much longer, but he doesn't want to let go. They're locked together, her arms and legs wrapped around his frame, and he's thinking of backing into the deeper water again so that they can remain in that intimate embrace forever. Sara hasn't moved to get down, and he knows she's thinking the same thing; he can see it in her eyes. One hand moves from the small of her back to her face and his fingers run through her hair before lightly caressing her face. With a small sigh, she closes her eyes and leans into his hand. He takes a deep breath, and is about to step backwards, but his eyes spot the house on the cliff, newly built, but looking as though it was carved into the landscape and something stirs in him. He gazes at the house and smiles tenderly at Sara, knowing that ahead of him is an evening full of other intimate embraces, and it is with only a little reluctance that he finally sets her down. He holds her to him for only seconds before grasping her hand and leading her to their home._

_Fin._


End file.
